Snowball Warface
by The Convergence
Summary: For CC: It finally snowed in Central City! Cisco throws a snowball. Barry promises retaliation. Things escalate.


**For** : CC  
 **Penname** : This House is Bitchin'  
 **Character** : Barry Allen  
 **Other Characters Used** : Cisco Ramon, Iris West, Harrison Wells, Caitlin Snow  
 **Rating** : K for Koalas and Kid Flash  
 **Genre(s)** : Friendship/Humour (aka fluff and happiness and everything your lightning boy needs)  
 **Message to your person** : Apologies for the kinda rushed weirdness - I tried my hardest! for youuuuu) Anyways, from one nerd to another: hope your christmas is filled with oceans of wrapping paper, happiness, and many tasty morsels of chocolate ;D My wonderful friend and fantastic role-player named CC deserves all of it!

* * *

 **Snowball Warfare**  
 _It finally snowed in Central City! Cisco throws a snowball. Barry promises retaliation. Things escalate._

* * *

It's yet another day in Central City. It's particularly late in the morning, and after Barry has finished some follow-up case work at the precinct, he rushes to S.T.A.R. Labs to see if his other job has any work for him to do. The whizz of gold and a burst of wind signifies his entrance as he spills out of the elevator onto the welcome mat. The words "S.T.A.R. Laboratories" are still prominent on the deep blue after four plus years of scientists' footsteps and The Flash's careless entries and exits – one might have thought they'd be faded by now. But, no, still strong they were.

The moment Barry arrives, however, something blue lights up the corridor around him – the source possibly coming from behind – and a faint _whoosh!_ meets his ears. Despite his speed, he turns around in time to notice a slushy, white sphere collide with his chest, directly over the emblem. He doesn't reel backwards at such a light hit, but his exasperated face says it all when he shifts his gaze from the floor to his friend leaning casually against the elevator archway.

"That aim, though," Cisco muses, admiring his handiwork.

"Oh, come on, Cisco," Barry tries, but Cisco is hardly listening through that smirk as he moves around the entrance room.

"You have to admit, that was good. Apparently, you CAN surprise The _Flash_."

Barry dignifies that response with merely a sigh and a loose toss of his hands. " _Why_?"

"Because it's fun and there's snow outside? Why else?"

He lets out a slight chuckle; an amused puff of air.

Cisco straightens and starts to move around the speedster, aimed for the hall that would take him to the Cortex. And Barry follows, the tinsel on the ceiling leading the way. It only takes a few seconds before they arrive, and Barry notices a certain red-headed scientist already seated inside, her eyes fixed on something on the screen. The moment she hears footsteps, her head flicks up and back. Orange waves shift slightly at the movement, and her eyebrows rise at the sight of snow still on his chest (although quite a bit of has trickled off with his movements).

"What's that about?" she questions.

"Cisco," the speedster starts, "threw a snowball at me–" he looks Cisco's way and raises his voice "–which I _swear_ I'm gonna get him back for."

The threat projects with the sort of playful determination a child would have, the promise of retaliation to 'get even' with their 'attacker'. On the other hand, the two others in the room receive it with only amused expressions, Cisco glancing backwards while he moved further in.

"Love to see that," Cisco replies effortlessly and flat.

"You _better_ watch out, Cisco – won't even see me coming." Barry's lips twitch upwards as a smirk plays across his features.

"Speed puns?" he deadpans. "Jeez, Barry, how low are you stooping?"

"I'm _going_ to get you back."

"Yeah, yeah."

A ping of the metahuman alert app, and the threat is forgotten. For _now_.

* * *

The days roll by without incident. Whether Barry was simply biding his time for Cisco to forget his threat or he _himself_ forgot (which is equally as likely), it is unclear. Well, to all but Barry. Since the snowball incident, the two days that roll past have been uncharacteristically quiet for a city with as bad a history as Central, but hardly anyone is stressing over the lack of action.

It's late in the evening when a streak of gold zooms down to Cisco's lab, scarlet-clad paws keeping a perfectly round snowball from blowing away in the super-sonic breeze. There Cisco is, pouring over new, potential updates to the Flash suit. And, although a little surprising, there is Harry, too, sitting a distance away with a metal part to something in his hands, eyes on a pad in his lap, and legs stretched out to rest on the second chair. Fortunately for Barry, he materialised at a moment that did _NOT_ include any heavy banter between them.

Within the second the speedster enters the scene, while triumphantly smirking (although trying not to show it), he launches the snowball at his friend.

Too late the scientists turn.

Although, there's an upside: Barry's aim is _far_ worse than Cisco's...

Snow crystals scrape off the back of the younger man's shirt, and the full brunt of the snow's mass strikes the grumpy man in the back. Barry internally groans; _Why does he have to have such bad aim?_ Moreover, why do they have to be in a perfect _line_?

Snow splatters over the man's black jacket, cascades downwards, and collects on the tablet in his lap. As a result, two shouts are heard at the same time: an agitated "Allen!" from Harry and the shocked exclaim of "Jeeeeeesus, Barry!" from the other.

"Toldja I'd get you," he simply replies despite his sheepish grin. An inkling of concern trickles into his expression when he realises Harry in the back was even less pleased (even less than usual, that is). He shook the tablet, drops of water flying off with the jerking motion, before glaring upwards at Barry.

"Work on that aim," grunts Wells, standing up from his seat to brush the snow off. Useless, however, due to it's already melted state. He soon realises the lack of necessity and resumes his glare at the scarlet-clad.

"Sorry, Harry?" Barry attempts, holding up against the glower. That, too, is a useless endeavor. An awkward pause pursues – filled with annoyance on one side, apologetic amusement on the speedster's (although, deep down, not _all_ that apologetic) – but eventually Barry breaks the tension, unable to keep silent for long.

"Soooo, I guess we're even then."

"No!" a chorus erupts immediately.

"Well, hey, Cisco – you got me and now I got you, that's even!"

"Not _completely_ ," Harry reminds.

"Really sorry about that, by the way." His head tilts in Cisco's direction, "I was getting _him_!"

Cisco and Wells share a look.

"Come on, guys."

Rolling his eyes, Cisco relays a quick, " _Fine_." At that, Barry smirks a little – back to his optimistic ways – and speeds off, dashing through the halls in a burst of golden light.

* * *

Only one day later, and Cisco already lulled him into a false sense of security. Pushing aside the snowball incidents, Barry keeps up his usual routine the following day, not a worry spared for his friends' intentions. It's Saturday, anyway. Saturday is a day to chill, being off-work for the end of the week. Saturday is a day to stay in bed and watch the snow outside your window gently descend, arms around your wife, basking in the warmth of your comforters. Saturday is _not_ the day to be worried about taking down yet another "mistake" of the particle accelerator.

The S.T.A.R. Labs proximity alarm has other ideas.

Apologies spilling from his lips (only to be dismissed by an understanding Iris), the pair suit up – Barry in his super-attire and Iris in a simple coat over pyjamas – before Barry blitzes them out the apartment. Down the road he races, startling a man exiting Jitters, a coffee in hand. He would have said sorry, had the Labs' security been a little more… well, secure.

He arrives in record time, landing himself and his tag-along, Iris, on the snow-blanketed parking lot. Eyes scan every inch of the exterior – casing the scene, just like Oliver taught him to. He expects– well, he doesn't know what, but certainly nothing even remotely close to the scene before him this moment. In the empty parking lot, two company vans are pulled out into the centre on opposite ends. From Barry's vantage point, he spies Cisco and Caitlin, both who are very much bundled against the chill, behind the closest car and darts towards them. In his darting, a rogue snowball or two come flying his way and he dodges with ease – a blend of slush is only a fraction as fast as a barreling truck, let alone Barry's top speed.

He skids into a stop behind the van, earning a little grin from Caitlin; Cisco, however, spares little attention to the newly-arrived couple, gaze trained on the other van where snowballs were soaring from.

"You missed."

"Some of us don't _have_ super speed, Barry."

"Is this what the alarm was for?"

"Couldn't have you missing all the fun."

"Well. _Thanks_. You literally just forced me out of a pretty nice morning, though..."

"Sorry." Although, Cisco doesn't seem all to apologetic from Barry's standpoint. "I guess it's too late for that then. Pick a side."

"What?"

No words, just a a gesture on the engineer's part to the rest of the playing field.

"Snowball fight," Caitlin concludes before launching a white sphere of her own at the other van.

At this point, Iris reaches the van, crystals of snow speckling her hair, and glances between the three already conversing. With a second in passing, she seems to understand everything: "Seriously?" is all she has to say.

...which earns a look from Cisco. "Hey! It's fun. We need fun, don't we? And also, _Harry_ over there thought he could take us down by himself." He shook his head, by now accustomed to that man's oddities. "Now, pick a _side_!"

And Barry does.

Although, at such a time, he does not realise the necessity of all this – of this little spot of joy in a sea of troubles – but the scarlet-clad speedster certainly exits the day with a wider smile than when he entered. He has no worries for a few, blissful hours. No evil metas, no DeVoe. Only friends.

And when the Great Snowball War finally comes to a close, the clan trudges inside, congratulations and teasing of course following. Eventually Cisco rigs up a projector in the Cortex, and – within moments – it's spitting an image against a blank wall. The entire crew is gathered, their bodies angled towards the show, alongside steaming mugs of cocoa and bowls of butter-lathered popcorn. The occasional remark or whispered musing does fly about their little circle. On each face, a smile – some slight, others wide – shown. These grins grow without restraint. They flourish. Because, for once, sitting with his arm draping around her shoulders is a reason to smile. Sitting on the floor, resting her head on his shoulder. It is perfect. Nothing special, nothing more; a group of friends gearing up for the holiday. All is merely content. Finally, ' _content_ ' isn't a dream Barry aspires to reach; for once, _content_ is no far-fetched goal he runs for: content is here, among friends, among his tightly-knit family.

His happiness is real.

Is strong.

Is _here_.

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** The Convergence Roleplay and any themes related to it belong to Rhya and Lena (links on profile). All OC's belong to their respective creators, all Canon Characters belong to their respective franchises and all credit for the fic itself goes to the Santa who wrote it.

 **The Convergence Roleplay:** Hundreds of fictional characters are trapped in a land of fairy tales and left to contemplate what and where home really is, and ask themselves whether they want to go back to their own worlds at all...?

The Convergence is the biggest roleplay on the fanfiction, featuring Supernatural, Harry Potter, MCU, Sherlock, Doctor Who, Percy Jackson, The Vampire Diaries, The Hunger Games, Merlin, OUAT, Divergent, Fox MCU, Star Trek, The Maze Runner, DC, Star Wars, LOTR, House, Live-Action Disney, Twilight, Teen Wolf, Stranger Things and Riverdale.


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